


City Folk

by ultimateparadox



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Donuts, Gen, Grief, Healing, Language, Post-DMCV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 13:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19199458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimateparadox/pseuds/ultimateparadox
Summary: Some time after the Qliphoth falls, Nero continues to work.





	City Folk

Sometimes Nero wondered if this Legendary Demon Hunter thing was worth the weight of the title. 

He picked up the butter knife set before him, untarnished and surrounded by several scraps of metal. When he prodded at the donut placed innocuously on the ceramic plate, the glazed dough peeled back to expose shark-like rows of serrated fangs. The donut demon ate easily through the knife and emitted a purring noise before it settled back into its unassuming form.

Nero was already so tired. He knew taking jobs away from Fortuna was his primary source of income, but he wanted nothing more than to make the long drive home to curl up against Kyrie in the graying hours of the early morning. The job that brought him this far out was done already, leaving him battered and sore, but he couldn't seem to turn down the frantic woman that rushed up to him, covered in demon blood and slime, after he hauled himself up and out of the sewers. 

"It's eaten my husband's hand!" She had cried. If the blood flaking off his coat had alarmed her, it didn't show. "Please, you're the demon guy, right? Please help us!"

That was how he found himself here, leaving a dusting of unmentionable grime in the woman's house. The place had a trimmed lawn and a white picket fence, was pristine with glass animal figures displayed on the walls around family photos. It was so normal and American Dreamy that Nero felt immediately out of place in her tiled kitchen, staring at a demonic treat and a ruined pile of silverware.

While he couldn't exactly ignore the thing, what with it eating the hand of the unsuspecting man who scooped it up, he couldn't help but feel this was below his pay grade. Following the global news coverage of Red Grave, the knowledge that demons existed had become common, causing an upward surge in hunters. He had competition now, humans like Lady that wanted to kick demon ass. It didn't bother Nero, not really, but he figured there'd have been someone more local this woman could have called instead of accosting him.

Wait, he backtracked. The only reason he got called here was to exterminate the alligator demon in the sewers that ate the local hunters. Damn.

Gingerly, Nero picked up the plate. The donut was quiet and still. He carried it out the backdoor under the fearful eye of the homeowner. Yelling back into the house, he asked, "Is this plate important to you?"

"N-no," she stammered, peeking out of the house, watching him like a hawk. 

"Great. Step away from the door and take cover, lady." He placed the plate on the ground. At the same time, Nero forced demonic power through his arm and into the Blue Rose, waiting until he knew for sure his explosive bullet would cause a devil-destroying detonation. Nero aimed at the donut (he really couldn't believe this was his life now, really) and pulled the trigger.

As expected, the demon opened its toothy maw and swallowed the bullets whole. A moment later the second bullet exploded, blowing the thing to chunks. Metal shrapnel from the silverware stuck into the fence and a crab tree, clanked against the Red Queen Nero braced in front of him. Blood painted the flawless picket fence, too, and he was almost amused by the results of the decimation.

"All clear," he said over his shoulder. He brushed a fork tine out of his jacket. "By the way, that's not jelly filling, and I'm not a cleaning crew."

The homeowner poked her head around the doorframe again, face paling. "Oh my," she trailed off, at a loss for words.

Exhausted from the day and feeling magnanimous, he walked up to her and declared, "Free of charge. Maybe try Krispy Kreme next time. I'm gonna use your phone."

One phone call to Nico was all it took to get her down the little suburban street. Dirty and dingy, their van was a sight for the sorest of eyes. He couldn't wait to get home. 

By the time they left suburbia the sun was setting. By Nico's calculations they could be back in Fortuna before sunrise if she floored it, but with the crush of traffic on the roads it was unlikely. Despite the massive crisis the Qliphoth rent on humanity, at least they had been free to speed. 

"What were you doin' out in White Woman County, anyway? I thought you were a sewer rat today," Nico asked, waving her unlit cigarette around. Nero grabbed the lighter and lit it up, to which she acknowledged with a nod. He rolled down his window. 

"Some small fry must have squeaked through a portal and possessed a donut," Nero groaned out as he slumped in the passenger seat. Over Nico's sudden uproar of laughter he continued, "The rest of the half dozen was fine and there's been no other reports of man-eating baked goods floating around, so it's probably safe to leave it."

"Dunkin Donuts, America runs on demons," his partner joked. Immediately after she blasted the horn, yelling obscenities in her road rage. "Civilization don't get any better no matter where you go!"

"We're out here protecting their right to be obnoxious," replied Nero. He pulled his hood over his head until it shielded his eyes. "Wake me up in a little while. Don't kill us in a pile-up because you got impatient."

"Jackass," he heard Nico mumble, but she left him to his own devices.

Despite his claims, Nero didn't fall asleep. He thought back to what he'd told Nico regarding protecting people. It had seemed like the right thing to say and he didn't regret it, but it left a bizarrely heavy feeling in his chest. It wasn't an unfamiliar one, either, and he recognized it as grief.

His words had been something Dante would have said, Nero thought. Legendary Demon Hunter Dante, son of Sparda, uncle. So many titles for one boisterous, powerful, and unexpectedly empathetic man. He came crashing into Nero's life and planted a seed of unrelenting faith, but after Red Grave it felt like something had poisoned the roots.

There were a lot of secrets Dante had kept from him, things that would have meant the world to him even just a few years prior. Anger simmered. Dante hadn't had the right to keep him in the dark about his family, Nero felt, something bitter rising in him. Dante's stupid sibling rivalry was a comedy of buffoonery and Nero had the nosebleed seats to it. When he'd finally put the brothers, behaving like the world's most powerful fucking children, in their place they hadn't even done him the kindness of letting him learn his new, dumbass family. 

They left. Deadbeats, the both of them.

Still, he couldn't hate them. For all they jerked him around, he couldn't fucking hate them. 

Knowing that somewhere they were more than likely alive together helped most days. It wasn't either of their first stints in the demon world. They were capable survivors, and while Nero's goodwill was tainted by Dante's decisions, he still trusted that Dante would do everything in his power to keep the both of them living. It was impossible to say whether they were actively coming home, and on bad days he doubted it, but Nero more often than not felt that surely Dante would return if only to let Nero get his kicks in. Fair was fair.

There was resentment. There was hurt. Loneliness bled into his bones. But Dante would come back, he'd say to Nico, to Kyrie, to Lady and Trish and Morrison. Dante was a man of many debts, but he always tried to repay them. He was due. 

The brakes screeched and Nero prevented himself from flying into the dashboard by raking his spectral claws into it to catch himself.

"Asshole!" Nico screamed out her window. That Nero had been disturbed didn't seem to bother her any. "Who do these city folk think they are?"

A question for the ages, and one he'd ask of his idiot father and uncle. Nero levered himself out of the passenger seat and stepped into the back, dropping onto the couch like he was made of concrete. 

Nico called back, "Y'know, when I first got to Fortuna I thought it was a weird place. Too clean and too quiet. But after spending time there with you and Kyrie, it's not too b-bad. Feels like a home. Feels like a family. Not like this bull crap."

Nero didn't look up. He couldn't, he found. Because while Dante had burned his feelings black with grief, he found that Nico had caused a different stir inside of him. A lump formed in throat that would allow no words to pass, but he didn't want to talk anyway.

Memories of a family bounced around in his skull, Credo and Kyrie and their late parents. Almost all gone, leaving gaping holes that could never be filled. Then memories of waking up years after the Savior Incident, cocooned in blankets with Kyrie, of stepping around the rambunctious orphans she cared for in their too-small kitchen, of Nico practically living out of their garage for over a year. 

Dante hadn't wanted to hurt Nero, but he had. It couldn't be undone. But one day they would come back, and Nero would once again show them he wouldn't be trifled with, and then they would heal. He would invite their stupid asses to dinner in their crowded kitchen. He would tell them about his job blowing up demonic donuts and they would laugh. He'd help Dante get his deed back from Morrison, maybe.

Nero had spent too long with heartache beating against his ribs. Even if it killed him, he was going to keep his patched-up, hobbled-together excuse for a family together and not even the strongest demon Hell could conjure would be able to stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Nero's stupid fucking family.


End file.
